


Stirb Nicht Vor Mir

by dahhhmer



Category: Columbine - Fandom, Historical Criminals RPF, True Crime - Fandom
Genre: Ambiguous-Gender Reader, Concerts, Drabble Collection, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multi, Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahhhmer/pseuds/dahhhmer
Summary: By the time you head home, you find yourself wondering if it's too soon to be falling in love already.A collection of true crime reader x drabbles.
Relationships: Dylan Klebold/Reader, Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	1. trained myself to give up on the past

**Author's Note:**

> All unbeta'd. Titled after the Rammstein song of the same title, which translates to _don't die before I do._ Gender is left intentionally ambiguous. Mostly done based on requests.
> 
> Chapter 1: Dylan Klebold x reader ; older/adult Dylan & reader ; titled after I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers ; written for enanti0m3rz on Twitter. TW for mentions of past self-harm.
> 
> Chapter 2: Dylan Klebold x Eric Harris x Reader ; set vaguely in high school ; titled after You and Your Friend by Snake River Conspiracy.

You meet Dylan for the first time at a local industrial band concert.

He's standing at the bar in the back of the venue waiting for his drink, six-foot-eighty even though he's stooping. He's older than you by at least a decade, you figure, but he's wearing a KMFDM shirt, which is something you don't see a lot of these days. You don't intend to flirt, really, but you do sidle up to him with your drink in hand and wave to get his attention.

"Cool shirt!" you say, loud so he can hear you over the music.

He meets your eyes and grins, and you think to yourself, _oh._

—

You're at the concert alone — you just moved here recently and have yet to make any friends in the local scene — so when Dylan offers to introduce you to his friends, you gladly accept. He introduces you to a small handful of people that seem to be pretty tight-knit. Normally you'd feel awkward, but they're all pretty welcoming, and you've had a drink or two already tonight. You feel like you fall into place with this little group of misfits quickly.

The night passes a lot faster than you'd like. When the show is over, Dylan lingers, and you summon up all of your courage to ask him for his number.

He types it into your phone and laughs self-consciously when you insist on taking a picture of him outside the bar, stars and neon lights as a backdrop. The picture is goofy and sincere and painfully sweet, and as you wait outside for your Lyft, you find yourself hoping desperately that you'll see him again.

—

You do see him again. After texting back and forth for a few days, you ask him out for drinks, and he says yes.

You flirt a lot at the bar, but you also talk about anything and everything. He tells you that he didn't want to ask you out first because he knows he's older, which melts your heart. He's sweet and sincere and intelligent and funny, and you're so smitten with him that you can hardly stand to be near him.

After your date, you ask him back to your place. Shyly, he tells you he respects you too much to take things too quickly. He lets you kiss him in his car, though, and you spend a solid twenty minutes making out in the parking lot.

By the time you head home, you find yourself wondering if it's too soon to be falling in love already.

—

One date turns into two, then three, then four. Around the fourth time, you finally convince him to come home with you, and he's even better in bed than you'd hoped. He tells you about his past experiences, which are few, and how he was nervous he'd be a disappointment to you. You assure him that he's not, which turns into a second round, and afterward, you ask him to stay the night.

Lying in bed together that night, Dylan traces his fingertips over old scars on your arms and thighs and tells you about his own. You kiss each of his scars, and he kisses each of yours. You've never felt safe enough with any lover to tell them as much as you tell him. You find yourself telling him every fucked up thought you ever had in your teens, and he shares his own in turn. He'd never hurt anyone now, he tells you, but he came close once in high school. You tell him you're glad he's still here, and he gives you that same sweet smile that made you start to fall for him the night you met at the concert.

The next morning, you wake up to the feel of his arms around your waist and his lips on the back of your neck. You turn around in his arms and kiss him awake. When you finally extract yourselves from each other a while later, Dylan leaves you in bed while he goes to make coffee and pancakes.

As you pad into the kitchen a while later wearing nothing but worn underwear and the Nine Inch Nails T-shirt Dylan left on your bedroom floor, you find yourself thinking about things like fate.


	2. you & your friend

You're Dylan's, first. But it's not hard to convince him to invite Eric in, too. In the end, the plan is simple. The three of you are hanging out playing video games one day — Street Fighter instead of Doom or Quake this time, at your insistence — and after you beat Eric in a match, you toss aside your controller, swing a leg over his lap, and settle in like you belong there.

Wide-eyed and confused, Eric stares at you for several seconds, then glances across the couch to Dylan. Dylan meets your eyes, smiles nervously, and nods at Eric.

"It's fine," Dylan murmurs, and you lean in to kiss Eric for the first time. You know you're imagining it, but you like to think he tastes like electricity and metal, ozone and a trace of gunpowder.

Dylan slides closer on the couch and settles a hand on Eric's knee. Eric jolts, surprised, but after a moment, he relaxes again.

When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, you sit back and look at the pair of them. Your heart swells with affection.

"Kiss him," you tell Eric, voice soft and quiet.

You watch as the two terrified boys stare at each other for a moment, then collide in a kiss so frenzied it almost looks violent.

You slide a hand into either boy's hair, and you smile.

×

You love both of your boys with all your heart. The three of you were already inseparable, but now it's rare to see one of you without the other two close behind. People make jokes, of course, hurl insults and question how close you are, but nobody really _knows_. Nobody knows all the ways the three of you fit into each other like interlocking puzzle pieces. Not one of them understands the strength of your bond.

And that's fine, really. Nobody needs to know. It's none of their fucking business. They don't need to know that you cradle the virginities of both beautiful boys in your chest, treasure them like something priceless. They don't need to know about all the plans you've made, about the late nights spent writing out lists and designing timer mechanisms for propane bombs.

As far as anyone else knows, you're just a tight-knit little group of outcasts. Weird, maybe a little too close, but altogether pretty harmless. And that's the way it'll stay until the time is right.


End file.
